I, Conqueror

Disclaimers: Xena, Gabrielle, and the rest of the known names belong to Pac Ren and everyone else who lays claim to them. I’m not doing this to make money.

Subtext: I believe that Xena and Gabrielle are lovers. There is erotica here.

Genre: As suggested by the title, this is a Xena the Conqueror piece. It is, however, a different Xena the Conqueror piece than most out there. What I have attempted to do is to write a Conqueror story as if it were written for X:WP instead of HTLJ. In addition, there’s a bit of Remember Nothing in here, only this time, it’s Gabrielle who has the memories while Xena does not. Confusing? Read on. J

Violence: Well, it’s the Conqueror. Are you gonna tell her not to fight?

Dedication: As always, I’d like to thank Mike for being such a great and supportive friend and beta reader. I love you, man! Thanks also go to Candace for once again beta reading fifty characters at a time, Elizabeth, and the rest of the Atlanta Xena crew. You guys ROCK! And a big thank you to list readers who put up with this being on their list every day.

Final P.S. With the completion of this story, I will begin writing Desert Storm once again, and then, when final rewrites to Redemption are completed, I will be starting on that sequel as well. Thanks to everyone for hanging in there. I hope you won’t be disappointed.

Last important bit: This story is completed. I am posting in sections to allow those who like it that way to have what they desire, but it is completed and will be going out a section a day until it is all up.

Alone in the large, mostly empty room, Gabrielle spent the remainder of the night in the fruitless pursuit of sleep. The bard thanked the gods for her guard’s professionalism. He didn’t so much as leer at her naked body, and even went so far as to bring her a robe to cover herself as well as some wood which he placed in the fireplace and lit, warming the room to a somewhat bearable temperature.

A conversationalist he was not, but Gabrielle wasn’t much in the mood for talking anyway. Her mind was awhirl with thoughts and emotions, each trying its level best to force itself to the forefront of her brain.

One by one, she forced them away, seeking instead the temporary peace she hoped sleep would bring, all the while knowing they’d still be there, waiting, in the morning.

After turning for what seemed like the hundredth time in as many minutes, fighting off the clinging sheets, and rubbing eyes gone gritty with exhaustion, Gabrielle nearly launched herself into orbit when the door swung wide and the guard from the evening before strode into the room, robe in hand.

She sat up quickly, pulling the sheets tight against her body, not realizing that action was giving the guard a better view—were he so inclined to enjoy it—than if she had simply left them to drift onto the floor.

Walking over to the bed, the guard held out a green, Chin-style robe, almost identical, save for size and coloring, to the ones that Tao Feng wore as Chief Healer. "Dress quickly, please. Her Majesty doesn’t like to be kept waiting."

As Gabrielle released the sheet to take the gown, the guard turned partially away, giving the woman as much privacy as he could while still making sure she wouldn’t get up and wander off somewhere that would cause him to be roped to a cross.

Gabrielle slipped out of the bed, thankful for the tiny bit of privacy she was given, and gasped as her bed-warmed feet met the cold, stone floor. "Chilly," she remarked unnecessarily to the guard, who grunted in reply.

Shrugging, she slipped the cool fabric over her head and threaded her arms through the long, flowing sleeves of the gown, her hands smoothing down the fabric as it slipped smoothly over her skin. The fit was almost perfect, leading Gabrielle to conclude that her silent watcher had a wife her size tucked away somewhere. "I’m ready, I guess," she said finally, wishing for a brush to run through her hair.

Taking her arm in a firm, yet not painful, grip, the nameless and silent soldier led Gabrielle from her luxurious, if barren, prison, and down the long stone hallway. Stopping them both before the door that bore the Conqueror’s crest, the soldier nodded to the door-guard, who in turn opened the huge door and announced the visitors.

After receiving an affirmative response, the door guard stepped aside and Gabrielle was ushered into the Conqueror’s presence.

Xena, dressed in a fresh set of oiled leathers, the purple silken cape hanging from epaulets nailed into her shoulder guards, stood facing one of the many windows in her throne room, looking out over the grounds which teemed with soldiers and camp followers. In the distance, she could see the tall-masted ships which brought the last of the huge Chin army onto Grecian shores. She smiled internally, seeing the last pieces of the trap against Caesar being laid with military precision. On days like this, it was good to be Ruler of the World.

"Leave us," she said finally, well aware of the two sets of eyes boring holes in her back. She could almost feel the guard’s low bow as her sharp hearing picked up his soft retreat from the room. Still, she remained at the window, her keen eyes tracking the activity below, a subtle pleasure slipping through her carefully wrought shields. "The people of Chin have a saying," she began, her voice conversational. Then she spoke a phrase in what Gabrielle took to be Chinese.

"It sounds beautiful. What does it mean?"

"The fool will die a thousand deaths. The brave man only one." She turned away from the window, eyes capturing Gabrielle’s without effort. "I haven’t yet decided where you fall in that equation."

Gabrielle couldn’t help the smile that came to her face. "Then you’re not alone. Sometimes I’m not too sure where I fall either."

Xena’s face seemed to soften almost imperceptibly before the icy mask slipped down once again. "Since I am not a fool, I won’t waste the talents you bring to me. Therefore, I’m going to release you once again into the custody of my guards, to perform your healing duties." She smiled; an expression that did nothing to thaw her arctic eyes. "Be warned, Amazon. One misstep, and your life is forfeit."

Gabrielle lifted her chin proudly. "I’ll do my job. With or without your threats."

"Just be sure that you do. You’re dismissed."

The bard stood there for a moment, battling against the urge to speak, then wisely held her tongue, spun on her heel, and walked toward the massive doors.

"Amazon." Xena’s soft voice floated over Gabrielle’s shoulder. She stopped, but did not turn.

"Tao Feng is being held as a sort of hostage to fortune. Your fortune. Serve me well and he’ll never need know how it feels to become like the girl he helped you rescue."

Gabrielle turned, slowly, her eyes flashing a message her lips wouldn’t utter.

Xena smirked, her own eyes sending out a message she knew the young woman would read clearly.

After a long, tense moment, the bard finally backed down and turned away, brushing stiffly past the interior guard as he opened the door for her.

*******

Callisto brought her roan mare to a stop off to one side of the training grounds, impressed despite herself with the battle maneuvers being practiced in the gigantic square of land. Dagnine might have been a simple, and brainless, lackey, but the man did know his warfare.

When said simple and brainless lackey noticed that his most bitter enemy was not only encroaching upon his field, but was also staring at him with predator’s eyes, he wheeled his horse around and approached her at a fast trot. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his horse dancing nervous circles around the blonde woman atop the mare.

"Remember who you’re addressing, you spineless worm. I am your commander."

"I command here," Dagnine retorted, one hand slipping to the hilt of his sword.

Callisto grinned. "I’m sure the Conqueror will be happy to hear that you’ve usurped her role."

Dagnine scowled. "That wasn’t what I meant and you know it."

"Oh really," Callisto purred. "And just what did you mean, Dagnine?"

It was the first time in his memory that the blonde harlot had called him by name, and for some reason unfathomable to him, Dagnine felt a thrill of true fear skitter its way up his spine. "Nothing," he muttered, half under his breath.

"Thought as much," Callisto replied, grinning. She flicked a hand. "But enough chit-chat. I’m here because I have a proposition for you."

Dagnine looked at her blankly. "What?"

Callisto moued her lips in a falsely compassionate expression. "Oh, didn’t they teach you the meaning of words with more than one syllable in Warlord’s School, dear? Poor thing. I’ll try to explain it to you in a way your limited little mind can comprehend." She grinned, her eyes alight with malicious mischief. "I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine. Understand?"

Dagnine scowled again. "I understood you the first time."

"Of course you did, dear. So, how about it?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"You run a few tiny little errands for me, and in return, I give you this." Reaching into the valley of her cleavage, Callisto pulled out the Ixion Stone, holding it up so that the light from the early morning sun displayed it to its best advantage.

Dagnine’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Where . . .did you get that?"

Callisto cocked her head. "Well, if I told you that, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, now would it."

"But the Conqueror . . . ."

"What Xena doesn’t know won’t hurt us." She flipped the stone once in her hands, grinning as Dagnine’s gaze followed the gem’s movements as if glued there. "I know this pretty little bauble has been dominating your fantasies for years, Dagnine. And all the while, Xena’s been holding it up over your head, hasn’t she. Promising to give it to you if you play the part of the good little soldier, fulfilling her every whim." She tossed the rock again. "What about your whims, Dagnine? Has she ever once taken those into account?"

She laughed as Dagnine licked his lips, staring at the stone as a sane man would a lover naked and waiting, open and ready, on his bed. She cocked her head again. "Have you even heard a word I’ve said?"

"Yes," the soldier finally croaked. "I heard you."

"Good. Do we have a deal then?"

After a long moment, the soldier tore his gaze from the stone and looked into the mirthful eyes of his new Master. His broad shoulders slumped in defeat. "What do you want me to do."

*******

Flanked by her newly enforced companion, Gabrielle made her way back through the camp and into the healing tent. There, she met with accusing stares from the assistants who, she imagined, blamed her for the disappearance of Tao Feng from their midst.

Her eyes adjusting to the comparative dimness of the tent, the bard cast about for something to take her mind off the coldness being directed toward her.

There was nothing, however.

All the cots were empty. The baskets of herbs and linens for bandages were filled to the brim with fresh supplies. The tent itself had been swept and washed clean of dirt and gore.

Gabrielle sighed, feeling acutely uncomfortable and not a little guilty.

A young man, the first fuzz of a beard gracing his cheeks, walked diffidently up to her, his hands clasped behind his back. He smiled tentatively. "Don’t worry about them," he whispered. "They’re just upset about Tao Feng."

"He’s safe," Gabrielle replied, using her bardic training to pitch her voice so as to be heard by everyone inside the tent. "The Conqueror needed him for a special assignment." Which was true, as far as that went. "I’m sure he’ll be back before you know it."

Surreptitiously eyeing the room, Gabrielle could see, as well as feel, the distinct lessening of tension in the men around her. She allowed her own body to relax somewhat. "Thank you," she whispered to the young healer’s apprentice in front of her.

The young man ducked his head and blushed to the roots of his white-blonde hair.

The bard bit back on her smile, recognizing the signs of a blooming crush when she saw one.

The apprentice shuffled his feet, then pulled his hands from behind his back. In them, he held a length of old linen and a bone needle threaded with gut. "I . . .um . . .I saw you stitching up Mellonius yesterday. I thought you did a wonderful job on him. I don’t even think there’ll be a scar." His voice was thick with awe.

Gabrielle smiled, which caused the young man to blush an even deeper red. She saw in him the exact type of earnest, and handsome, young man that she herself would have ‘fallen for’ before a certain tall, blue eyed, black haired woman had stolen her heart, soul, and everything in between. "Thank you. I’ve had a lot of practice sewing up battle wounds."

The apprentice winced. "Well, you see, that’s my problem. I’ve never had that kind of chance. I’ve always wanted to be a healer, but I grew up in a merchant village, and, well . . .there really wasn’t much for me to do." He looked at her, golden eyes pleading. "Will you teach me how to stitch like you do? Please?"

The bard gifted the man with a bright, sunny smile that left him seeing stars. "I’d be happy to. Let’s get nearer to those torches so that we have more light to work with."

The bedazzled young man nodded obediently and followed his new teacher like a rescued puppy, his mind a complete blank save for the memory of Gabrielle’s smile imprinted on his retinas.

*******

The torches were guttering low, and Gabrielle’s fingers were cramping after an extended tutor session with needle, thread, and an interested pupil who seemed more interested in watching her face than her hands at times.

Noting that the young man, whose name she learned was Tellimenichus, for once showed more interest in his stitching than in her, she chanced a yawn and stretch, rolling her stiffened neck around on her shoulder and groaning softly as her spine settled back into place.

A strangled croak from beside her convinced Gabrielle that she should have, perhaps, stepped outside the tent before attempting that particular bodily maneuver. I’ve never actually seen someone go that shade of red before.

Just as she was about to say something to calm her young admirer down, the tent flaps blew inwards as a flushed soldier flew through them, skidding to a stop several feet from the bard. "Come quickly. There’s been an accident."

Jumping up, Gabrielle grabbed Tao Feng’s healing kit, then turned to Tellimenichus. "Stay here and keep practicing. I’ll be back soon."

The young man rose to his feet. "No. Please, let me come with you." He smiled shyly. "You might need help and, well, I’ll get to see the master in action."

Never one who could resist a heartfelt plea, the bard smiled, nodded, and tossed the healer’s kit to the young man.

His face lit up like a child’s on Solstice morning. "Thanks!"

Gabrielle smiled back, then turned to the winded soldier. "Lead on."

*******

After several minutes, the trio finally arrived at the site of the accident. A small group of soldiers was milling around, staring at something on the ground and talking animatedly.

Pushing her way through the sweaty, leather-clad throng, Gabrielle looked down at the fallen soldier, who had his face partially covered by his arm. She immediately squatted, keen eyes assessing for injury. "Are you alright?"

Pulling his arm away from his face, the man smiled.

Before she could even blink, Gabrielle found herself looking down the blade of yet another very sharp sword pointed at her neck. This was old two years ago. Why can’t something just go right for a change?

Then she got a good look at the man towering above her. Her eyes widened. "Dagnine?"

"You know me. I’m honored." His grin became a twisted leer.

"Why are you doing this?"

Dagnine shrugged, causing the sword point to dig slightly into Gabrielle’s neck. "Maybe I just don’t like blondes."

Gabrielle couldn’t stop her own retort from forming on her lips. "No. I heard you were more the Centaur type."

Bellowing in rage, Dagnine drew back his sword and let go a horrific blow. At the last possible second, Gabrielle ducked out of the way, not realizing that Tellimenichus was pushing past her to prevent her from being struck.

As the sword came low, it bit deep into the young man’s thigh, spraying both Dagnine and Gabrielle with blood.

The bard caught the healer’s apprentice as he fell, lowering him gently to the ground and pressing her hand tight over the gaping wound. Whipping her head around, she glared at Dagnine, teeth bared.

"Get up, woman, or I’ll kill you like a dog where you kneel."

"Do it, then, because I’m not leaving this man."

Dagnine shrugged. "Have it your way." He lifted his sword high once again, and Gabrielle tightened her hold on Tellimenichus’ leg, her chin high, her mind whispering a last goodbye to Xena.

One of Gabrielle’s favorite sounds in any reality came then, and Dagnine stared dumbly at the sword, which had shrunk to less than half its original length, in his hand.

The Conqueror landed in their midst, tumbling the bystanders over like columns in a crumbling temple. Dagnine’s wrist shattered as the fractured sword was kicked from his hand. He then found himself on his back, gasping for air and impaled by the light of murderous blue eyes staring down at him.

In a turnabout totally devoid of irony, he felt the point of the Conqueror’s sword tickling at his larynx. "Big mistake, Dagnine."

The General swallowed hard, earning himself a nice little knick along his protruding Adam’s Apple.

Xena saw the man’s eyes shift and she stiffened, hearing the cock of a loaded crossbow some yards behind her back.

Easily recognizing the change in Xena’s posture, Gabrielle looked up from Tellimenichus’ wound, her eyes scanning the field. In a tree perhaps fifty yards away, the bard saw a faint flash of light. "Xena," she warned softly.

"I know," the Conqueror replied in a like tone. She brought up her free hand, and as if by magic, a crossbow bolt suddenly appeared in her clenched fist. She caught a second without dropping the first, then whirled, using her sword to deflect the third and forth. Her chakram sang once again and the assassin fell from the tree, the weapon deep within his guts.

Suddenly, another barrage of arrows came at her, and she used her sword to deflect them, cursing the corpse that held fast to her chakram.

As Xena was busy protecting herself from the aerial attack, Dagnine saw his chance and grabbed a sword from one of his cronies. With a jackal’s grin, he lifted his sword, eyes eagerly intent on the greatest prize of them all.

Well aware of the action behind her, the Conqueror patiently waited for the bowman to reload, then spun and blocked Dagnine’s killing blow, shoving him back several feet.

Dagnine hadn’t, however, risen through the Conqueror’s ranks based on his Stone-inspired loyalty alone. He was an excellent swordsman, and knew that if he could keep her distracted just long enough, eventually one of the crossbow bolts would hit their mark. "You can’t kill us both, Xena," he taunted, deliberately using her given name.

The Conqueror smiled. "Sure I can."

She attacked mercilessly and without pause, making sure to present the assassin in the trees with a quick-moving target that was nearly impossible to hit.

Though strained to his limits, Dagnine was able to block and parry every blow, though attacking was completely out of the question.

By pure chance, Gabrielle looked toward the tree-line again and watched as the bowman released his next pair of bolts, one right after the other. She looked back just in time to see Xena stepping into their flight path.

The rest was pure instinct.

Time seemed to pass by in years instead of nanoseconds. She felt her body launch itself up from the ground, her arms outstretched, fingers extended to their fullest, eyes intent only on the missile headed her way.

A fine displacement of air, and she closed her hand, beyond amazed that there was actually something there.

That was all she had time to think as the second of the projectiles found itself a home in her upper left chest.

Time sped up once again and she plummeted gracelessly to the ground, the arrow still clenched tightly in her hand.

Dagnine looked stunned as the young healer he had written off so easily had actually managed to do what he had only seen Xena be able to accomplish before.

And that gave Xena the opportunity she needed. With a mighty stroke, she lopped off her General’s head, the look of amazement never leaving his rapidly glazing eyes. Then she made half a turn and flung her sword with all her might toward the trees, smirking slightly as the second assassin fell from the branch, hands clutched around the weapon sticking out of his chest.

Looking down, the Conqueror’s eyes widened slightly as she saw her healer lying on the ground. She quickly dropped to her haunches, eyeing the wound.

Gabrielle smiled, holding her up her hand. "Look, Xena," she whispered. "I caught it." The pain in her face was tempered with an almost child-like joy. She coughed slightly and a small stream of blood trickled from her lips.

"Why?" Xena asked, beyond stunned at the selfless act.

"I couldn’t let you die," came the simple answer before the brilliant green eyes slipped closed.

A horse’s irritated whinny broke the Conqueror from her mild trance and she looked up, one hand shading the sun from her eyes.

Marcus hopped from his horse as if his saddle were aflame, landing next to Xena and staring, wide-eyed, at the carnage around him. "Majesty? What happened?"

Xena ignored the obvious. "Get those men rounded up," she gestured to the small group of men who had been standing around when she had first appeared on the scene, "and taken to the dungeon. I’ll be down there shortly to question them personally."

"Yes, Majesty."

She looked down at the young man her healer had tried to help. He was still alive, though bleeding heavily from his wound. "Have someone take him back to the healing tent. Send one of the guards to fetch Tao Feng and have him treat the boy."

"Yes, Majesty. And this one?" he asked, pointing down at the unconscious bard.

Crouching down, the Conqueror easily, and even gently, gathered the limp body up into her arms, then stood. "I’ll tend to her myself." She whistled for her stallion, and when he came near, she whistled again, causing him to kneel. She slipped over his broad back carefully, then settled Gabrielle’s warm body against her chest. Another whistled command brought the horse back to his feet, waiting patiently for his next command.

Another of her Royal Guard brought his cantering horse to a stop and handed over her cleaned sword and chakram. Xena accepted them one at a time, restoring them to their customary places on her body.

"What should we do with Dagnine, Majesty?" Marcus asked.

"Put his head on my gatepost. Feed his carcass to the wolves."

"Your will, Majesty."

Gathering the reins in her free hand, the Conqueror clicked her tongue and the horse set off toward the castle, using his smoothest gait.

*******

Gabrielle rose to consciousness by slow degrees, her awakening senses slowly taking in the world around her without, for the moment, the use of her eyes. Her upper chest throbbed in time with the beat of her heart, sending warning tingles down the length of her left arm. The bed beneath her was cool and soft and the air was fragrant with incense.

Her eyelids fluttered open, seemingly of their own volition, and a dark face came into blurred view. She blinked once to clear her vision, and the woman above her smiled. "Welcome back," came the lightly lilting tones of Niamey.

"Thanks. I think." Her cramped body needed to stretch, but the flaring pain in her arm convinced her to pass on that impulse for the moment.

"Do you have much pain?"

"It’s not too bad."

Niamey’s dark eyes twinkled at the obvious subterfuge.

Gabrielle scowled slightly. "So I’ve had better days," she admitted. "What happened?"

The body servant’s eyes narrowed as she carefully looked the young woman over once more. The Conqueror hadn’t mentioned a head wound, but . . . . "What is the last thing you remember?"

The bard’s brow furrowed as she thought. "There was . . .fighting. And . . .someone was shooting . . .from the trees. And . . . ." Her face cleared as a smile curled her lips. "And I caught the arrow!"

Niamey grinned. "You certainly did. It’s been the talk of the Court. How a little bit of a woman, a healer no less, had the skills to catch an arrow in mid-flight." The dark woman’s smile deepened, reaching into the depths of her eyes. "And how she took another to the chest, all to save the Conqueror’s life."

Gabrielle couldn’t control the blush that spread its way over her cheeks and ears at the adoration in the body servant’s eyes and voice. "I did what I had to do," she said, quietly.

Niamey nodded. "There are some here who would not thank you for your selfless act, but I’m not one of them." Reaching down, she grasped the young healer’s hand between both of her own. "Thank you, Gabrielle. What you did was a very brave and wondrous thing."

Her blush deepening, the bard returned the gentle clasp, her tongue temporarily stilled.

Fully sensing the other woman’s embarrassment, Niamey released her grip and smoothed out the sheets covering her patient. "Do you think you can sit up a little? I have orders to get as much water into you as I can. And there’s some broth heating by the fire."

Nodding slightly, Gabrielle allowed Niamey to help her up to a semi-reclining position, aided by several downy pillows stuffed behind her upper back. Sitting up actually seemed to lessen the pain of her wound and, curiously, she looked down to see the neatly cauterized wound drying in the warm air. "Who did this?"

Niamey’s eyebrows rose. "Why, her Majesty, of course. She tended to you personally and only just left this room less than an hour ago."

"How long was she here?"

"The better part of a day. You were a bit feverish and quite restless." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Her Majesty discovered that if she held your hand, you calmed down. You cried out for her quite often, you know."

Gabrielle’s heart-rate increased in alarm. "I . . .um . . .what did I say?"

Niamey reached out to lay a soothing hand on Gabrielle’s arm. "Nothing of importance. Mostly the confused ramblings of a fevered mind."

If she was looking for reassurance, she wasn’t getting it. Still . . . . "You’re probably right. I don’t really remember anything."

"Of course not. Your body went through a terrible trauma." The taller woman smiled. "But now you seem to be coming out of the woods. So, which first? Water or broth?"

"Water, I think."

"Then water it shall be."

*******

Xena lifted her hands from the blood-reddened water and dried them on a fine linen towel as her mind played back over her interrogation of the prisoners. She didn’t learn anything she hadn’t already expected, but the realization wasn’t a comforting one by any means.

Even when placed under the most horrific torture techniques in the Conqueror’s unmatched arsenal, each conspirator’s story remained unchanged, even to the smallest of degrees.

To a man, they had all asserted that Dagnine had come to them just that morning, his eyes alight with great excitement, and promised them all great wealth and the gratitude of the Conqueror herself if they would but help him in killing the annoying new healer.

Their steadfast belief in her tacit, if unfounded, agreement with the mission almost stayed her hand, but in the end, she killed them all. Their screams as they breathed their last failed to give her the customary joy she was used to feeling. That disquieted her somewhat.

She walked over to the window and looked out, letting the gentle breeze blow the tangled bangs back from her forehead. She was certain she saw Callisto’s malevolent touch in all this. And her gut was rarely wrong in such matters.

There were many in her Realm who wondered why she allowed the blonde psychopath to live, and live well; the woman seemingly privy to all matters involving the Conqueror and her Rule.

And, to be truthful, there were times, mostly deep into the night, when Xena herself wondered about her own motivations.

Perhaps, when all was said and done, the major reason Xena kept Callisto around was simply because she could. Dealing with her blonde second-in-command was like trying to tame a wind-swept fire. Dangerous, but possible, if you kept on your toes. Never boring. And, perhaps, somewhat useful. Under the right circumstances.

Turning from the window, the Conqueror deliberately banished such thoughts to the furthest recesses of her mind and instead concentrated on the motivations of a certain young woman who, for reasons unfathomable to the dark ruler, chose hers as a life worth saving, even to the Amazon’s own detriment.

That thought had been nettling her ever since the actions themselves took place, diluting her customary joy in inflicting pain to those who, she felt, deserved it.

It had been ten dark years since M’Lila had given up her life for Xena. And in the intervening years, the Conqueror had made it part of her own life’s mission to make sure she was never placed in that position again.

Love, or what had passed for it back then, had made her weak. It had allowed her to fall victim to Caesar’s seductive charms and had gotten her roped to a cross, her legs shattered, her heart torn beyond the possibility of mending.

That love had also saved her life was something she didn’t allow herself to delve too deeply into.

Shaking her head, the Conqueror turned, and with a purposeful step, headed toward her sleeping room.

*******

Niamey rose gracefully to her feet and bowed deeply as Xena entered into the room.

"Has she awoken?"

"Briefly, Majesty. She accepted broth and water, as you ordered."

"Did she speak?"

"Very little. Except to deny the depth of her pain." The last was spoken with a hint of gentle mockery, to which Xena gave her typical raised eyebrow retort.

Nodding, the Conqueror reached up to unfasten her shoulder-guards and Niamey hurried over to assist. When stripped of her heavy armor, Xena stepped away from the attentions of her body-servant, touching the other’s arm lightly. "You may leave. I’ll watch over her for the remainder of the evening."

Niamey bowed. "As you wish, Majesty. Good night."

When the soft closing of the door heralded Niamey’s departure, Xena walked over to her bed and looked down at the young woman currently occupying it. Gabrielle appeared to be sleeping comfortably, her breathing deep and even, her eyes darting behind relaxed lids, dreaming of what, the Conqueror couldn’t begin to guess. Her cheeks had regained a more healthy hue, neither pale from blood loss, nor rosy from fever.

Xena was stunned by the youthful appearance presented her. The tense lines that had characterized the Amazon’s conscious face were absent in this relaxed state. Sleeping, she appeared barely out of her teens; hardly the skilled healer and courageous warrior the Conqueror knew her to be.

"Who are you?" Xena whispered again, her lips barely parting.

Heedless of the turmoil above, Gabrielle smiled slightly in her sleep.

After several moments asking questions for which there were no answers, Xena finally eased herself out of her leather battlewear and, stepping around to the other side of the bed, carefully slipped in between the cool, smooth sheets.

Stretching to her full length and enjoying the slight pull of well-used muscles, the Conqueror tucked her hands behind her head and looked up at the frescoed ceiling, willing her rapidly turning mind to calm enough to allow sleep.

Yet her mind refused her command to be still. Thoughts tumbled over one another, all centered upon the young woman who slept so peacefully beside her. The sleep of the innocent, she thought, a faint pang of something she recognized to be jealousy skittering through her senses. How many years had it been since Morpheus had come so gently to her? Too many.

Deliberately closing her eyes, Xena called forth meditative techniques taught to her by Lao Ma. If she couldn’t have sleep, perhaps she could summon some peace.

Almost fully relaxed, the Conqueror came to with a start as a warm, soft body suddenly wrapped itself around her. A head came to rest on her shoulder as a bold hand slid up her belly and molded itself to her breast, which responded enthusiastically.

The rest of her, however, was struggling mightily against the impulse to throw the injured Amazon the length of the room.

Feeling the rigidity beneath her, Gabrielle woke slightly, grumbling. Easing her hand away from Xena’s breast, she rubbed the silken plane of her lover’s flat belly. "Relax, will you? By the gods, Xena, you’d think we’d never done this before," she mumbled.

Gabrielle gave in to the urge to burrow closer and turned slightly, only to have her injured shoulder scream out a warning. "Ow." Blinking away tears of pain, she opened her eyes and tilted her chin up.

Then immediately wished she hadn’t as a piercing gaze cut through both the pain and the warm feelings she’d had upon awakening.

"I was . . .cold?"

The icy expression didn’t change.

"And . . .dreaming."

Still nothing.

She tried to pull away when the pain hit, paralyzing her with its terrifying strength. Her breath caught in her lungs as fresh tears squeezed out from between tightly clenched eyelids.

The scream lodged deep in her throat was almost released as the firm touch of warm, strong hands descended on her upper body and, almost tenderly, rolled her over onto her back.

"Relax." The low-voiced command filtered through pain’s rosy haze, and Gabrielle felt her body begin to respond, subtly loosening the tight lock agony had on her muscles.

"That’s right. Relax. It’s only pain. Breathe through it. Breathe now."

Helpless against the seductive pull of Xena’s hypnotic voice, the pain began to abate, and Gabrielle’s chest loosened enough for her to draw in a deep, moaning breath.

That felt good, so she took another, weak with relief when her body finally relaxed fully and her light-headedness disappeared with the calming. "Thank you," she said finally, opening her eyes to look at an expression that wasn’t quite cold, yet held none of the concerned warmth she was used to seeing in those magnificent eyes.

"The debt is paid."

Puzzled, the bard frowned. "What debt?"

Removing her hands from the temptation of the Amazon’s warm flesh, Xena rolled to a seated position on the bed. "On the field, you saved my life. And later, I saved yours. We’re even, neither beholden to the other."

Gabrielle felt her anger flare again, but held it in check. "Xena, when I caught that arrow back there, I didn’t do it to make you beholden to me."

The Conqueror raised an eyebrow, her expression one of patent disbelief.

"I didn’t," the bard asserted, her anger giving her the strength needed to push up to sitting.

"Then why?"

"It’s like I said before. I couldn’t let you die. Is that so hard to accept?"

"It is when the motivations of such an act are unclear."

Gabrielle’s eyes widened. "Motivations?! Xena, the only motivation going on at that moment was to stop you from getting skewered by some coward’s arrow. That’s all."

When Xena remained silent, the bard sighed in frustration, the fingers of her good hand balling into a tight fist. "I’m sorry to disappoint you, Xena, but this wasn’t part of some sinister plot to get myself skewered so that you’d be forced into owing me your life. It was done out of simple compassion. Caring. Out of the desire not to see you lying on the ground in a pool of blood if there was something I could do to stop it."

Eyeing the Conqueror’s impassive features, Gabrielle took a chance, reached out, and gently clasped one of Xena’s hands, bringing it forward into her lap. "Xena, haven’t you ever once just done something because it was the right thing to do?"

Xena stiffened slightly, but did not attempt to remove her hand. "Right for whom?"

"For the world. For mankind."

Xena’s face softened almost into a smile. "There are those who would say that my campaign against Caesar is for mankind."

"Maybe. But what would you say?"

Removing her hand, the Conqueror pinned Gabrielle with a steely glare. "I would say that altruism is a tool of the weak."

Gabrielle returned the stare. "Do you consider me weak?"

If Xena was taken aback by the question, she didn’t show it. "I consider you . . .intriguing. A contradiction. Soft. And hard." In her mind’s eye, the Conqueror saw the face of her mentor, Lao Ma. The comparison was inevitable, even given the other differences between that woman and this. "Soft as water, yet who can withstand the raging flood," she murmured, scarcely aware she was speaking aloud.

"Interesting analogy."

Xena blinked, returning to the present. Her features hardened. "I had been told that all who lived in Poteidia were dead, Amazon."

It was Gabrielle’s turn to blink as her mind attempted to wrap itself around the abrupt change in topic. "Excuse me?"

"’Xena, you’ve got to take me with you. Teach me everything you know. You can’t leave me here in Poteidia. I want to go with you. I’ve studied the stars, spoken with philosophers. I have the gift of prophesy. I can be very valuable to you. Take me with you. I want so much to be like you.’ Your words, Amazon. Explain them."

Gabrielle looked down at her hands. "I. . . can’t. Obviously. Since I can’t remember saying them." She looked up at Xena again. "Niamey told me that I said some things when I was unconscious. I’m guessing this was one of them."

Xena looked deep into the young woman’s vibrant eyes, searching for any sign of deceit. But, as before, she couldn’t find any. She let go a silent sigh, taking Gabrielle’s assertions for truth.

After all, only within the depths of a fevered delusion could a woman so full of bright promise desire to be ‘just like’ the bloody stuff of nightmares Xena herself had so willingly become.

Gabrielle saw it then, that tiny crack in the Conqueror’s armor; that look on her face that was so achingly familiar and so heartbreakingly sad; the one that screamed out, even in these muted tones, Xena’s lack of belief in her own self worth.

And, as always, the bard was helpless to do anything but respond to it. Reaching out, Gabrielle grasped Xena’s hand once again, and brought it to her lips, brushing the softest of kisses to the sun-bronzed knuckles. Knowing that words would only serve to sever the tenuous link she’d forged, Gabrielle wisely held her tongue.

For the first time in her adult life, the Conqueror felt moved to the point of tears. Clenching her jaw, she refused to give vent to them, and instead pulled her hand away from the warm, tender clasp. "Go back to sleep," she commanded, her voice suspiciously husky.

Grabbing a robe from within one of her many closets, she turned and strode from the room without once looking back.

After a long moment, Gabrielle gave into the demands of her injured body and lay back down. Sleep captured her quickly once again, the tears Xena couldn’t shed slowly drying on her own cheeks.

*******